


Take What You Can Get

by Anonymous



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2109924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Enjolras, a straitlaced and proud activist, agrees to a bargain with his cynical frenemy Grantaire, there are only two possible outcomes: either indifference will reign, or wills will crumble and hearts will break...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take What You Can Get

"You're drunk," said the angel on the opposite site of the cafeteria table, wrinkling his nose.  
  
Grantaire raised his head from the large tome his cheek had been plastered on, and grimaced as the new angle made the fluorescent lights glaring from above twice as unbearable.  
  
"It's called a hangover," he said, squinting at the angel. "You'd know if you'd ever had one, Mr. Teetotaller."  
  
"Enjolras," was the knee-jerk reply, quickly followed by: "And how did you know I don't drink?"  
  
Grantaire shrugged. "Because I've never seen you before." Now somewhat more accustomed to the light, he began eyeing Enjolras more seriously, drinking in the smooth skin, delicate yet firm jawline, and passionate eyes, until his attention diverted towards the enormous paperback under Enjolras' arm.  
  
"Atlas Shrugged?" he asked incredulously. He gave Enjolras another once-over, focusing on his curly hair that was long from the back and knotted scarf. "You don't look like an Objectivist."  
  
"Know thine enemy," Enjolras replied, a self-assured smile replacing his earlier scowl. His eyes fell on the book Grantaire was still all but lying on. "And what are you sleeping on?"  
  
Grantaire yawned. "The World as Will and Representation."  
  
Enjolras frowned. "Schopenhauer, was it? You're a philosophy major, then?"  
  
"I dabble," Grantaire replied, preferring to dodge the question. He finally sat up properly and slammed the book shut. "There's one question this can't answer that you can," he said, placing one elbow on the table and leaning forward with what he hoped was a languid smirk. "Out of all the empty tables here on this beautiful morning, why did you sit by the one occupied by me? Not that I mind, obviously."  
  
Enjolras raised his chin in what was almost a haughty gesture, his mouth drawing into a line that reminded Grantaire of a Greek statue he had seen while travelling abroad. The curve of the marble lip from years ago was identical to the one in flesh before his eyes.  
  
"Are you aware," Enjolras began, rousing Grantaire from his reveries, "that even as we speak, thousands after thousands rot away in prison just for speaking their minds?"  
  
Ah.  
  
Grantaire leaned backwards, assuming a comfortable position. This might take a while.

* * *

  
"—and because of constant pressuring from WHO, African doctors are all but forced to used their few resources to generate statistics on AIDS instead of using them to combat the disease."  
  
Grantaire yawned. "I need coffee." He changed courses and began slowly shuffling towards the nearest coffee shop on the street. Enjolras followed, with an indignant huff.  
  
"Were you even listening?"  
  
"To parts of it, yeah." Grantaire held the door open for Enjolras. "Sorry to say, but nothing you've told me today has been news to me."  
  
Enjolras sighed. "That's what you always say."  
  
"Perhaps you could try changing discussion topics, then?"  
  
Enjolras narrowed his eyes. "Or perhaps, if I bore you so much, you could stop following me around."  
  
Well. It was true, for the past several weeks Grantaire had spent extraordinary amounts of time on campus, in Enjolras' company, mostly making fun of his impromptu speeches when he wasn't distracted by his lips. It wasn't Enjolras who kept inviting him out, nor was it Enjolras who sought him out wherever he went. If Enjolras' inexhaustible passion for social justice got on his nerves, he could just leave.  
  
Grantaire shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow." This wasn't the first he had said as much. He nodded at the open door. "My treat."  
  
Enjolras shot a glare at him before strutting inside with all the majesty he could muster. "Fine."  
  
Once their orders arrived, and Grantaire had blown on his coffee (large, black), and watched Enjolras take the first tentative sip of his latte, he couldn't help but bring up the previous conversation, knowing full well it was none of his business and even relishing it.  
  
"Why do you care so much, anyway?" he asked, smirk widening as the disgust on Enjolras' face grew more apparent. "The world is full of shit, I know. Everyone with half a brain cell knows. But most people also know there isn't much we can do about it. Our time is finite, so why waste it?"  
  
Enjolras sat up as high as he could. "It's attitudes like that," he began icily, "that forestall a brighter future."  
  
"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Grantaire took a sip that his coffee, watching with amusement as Enjolras began to fume. Why was teasing him such a delight? Perhaps because he never yielded, never compromised, never admitted that Grantaire might have a point. His will was steel, a titanium spine hidden behind a marble countenance. He always came up with a retort, and never tired of trying to prove Grantaire was wrong, that hedonism was not the only viable path to happiness on this miserable earth, that the days of idealism weren't over, that it was possible to wake the ignorant masses from their government-approved hypnosis and establish a new order, with true freedom and equality for all. Even as he mocked it, Grantaire revered his absolute determination.  
  
"If you had ever tried to change the world yourself," Enjolras continued, calm and collected despite a slight strain in his voice, "you'd understand. Come to a rally with me, and you will see the power of the people with your own eyes."  
  
Grantaire laughed and raised his cup to his lips. "Only if you come with me to a party with me afterwards and try out my lifestyle as well. Do some funnelling, maybe some dancing, have a good time. Probably the first good time you've ever had in your life."  
  
"Deal," Enjolras replied, without skipping a beat.  
  
Grantaire very nearly spat the hot liquid he had just gulped all over the table.  
  
"I have faith in my ideals," Enjolras continued, his upper lip assuming its characteristic curl. "If I can prove one more person the value of action, it's more than worth that. Your offer's a bargain, really."  
  
Grantaire swallowed and kept staring at Enjolras, mouth ajar. In a desperate attempt to regain his composure, he said: "if that's the case, how about we make it two party nights?"  
  
Enjolras sniffed haughtily. "Forget it. One rally for one night at the town, no more."  
  
"Fine." Grantaire felt his cynical smirk return. "When shall we do this, then?"  
  
"There's a protest for raising the minimum wage two weeks from now. I'll email further information to you." Enjolras finished his latte and stood up. "Be there, and I will indeed try out your lifestyle for one night."  
  
He left before Grantaire could come up with a witty response, a first. He finished his cup of coffee in silence, wondering at the strange mingling of anticipation and dread in his mind.


End file.
